Miles felt like he was falling.

Not fast, not sudden. Just... drifting. Like the world had let go of him and he was tumbling through silence, through thick velvet air that hummed softly in his ears.

There was no pain. No thoughts.

Only weightlessness.

And with it, something he hadn’t felt in a long time:

Peace.

His worries slipped off him like old clothes. School. Hazel. That creeping, hollow feeling in his chest. Even his fear faded, dissolved into the vast, endless dark.

Until—

Splash.

He hit water.

Not hard—more like sinking through silk. He crashed downward through a surface he hadn’t seen coming and broke into an endless sea.

Then, something shifted.

The world flipped.

Like the sky turned inside out and gravity suddenly remembered him.

His body yanked downward—no, upward—and his feet slammed into something solid.

He gasped, staggering to his feet.

Ankle-deep water rippled around him. Black and blue, like ink reflecting stars.

The horizon stretched forever in all directions—an ocean with no waves, no shore. The air smelled faintly of salt and something sweet. The sky above him was dawn and midnight all at once, soft pink clouds bleeding into constellations.

It was silent.

Miles turned slowly, his eyes wide. The only sound was his own breath and the faint drip of water from his sleeves.

And ahead of him, in the far distance, was light.

A warm, golden glow. Gentle. Inviting. It pulsed like a heartbeat.

It pulled at him.

He took one step forward.

Then another.

The closer he got, the more final it felt.

Like every step toward that light was one closer to ending.

It wasn’t fear that stopped him.

It was instinct.

So he turned around.

And ran.

Faster and faster, though there was no direction. The water didn’t grow deeper. The light didn’t grow dimmer. The sky didn’t change. The whole place was a looped breath held in eternity.

He ran until his legs burned. Until time forgot how to pass.

Then—

The ground gave out beneath him.

He dropped with a cry, plummeting into cold.

A waterfall opened up beneath his feet, roaring out of nowhere, and he plunged downward, spinning, weightless again, until—

YANK.

A hand grabbed his shirt and hauled him up.

He landed with a wet splat on hard wooden boards.

Coughing, soaked, and stunned, Miles blinked up at the masked figure standing over him.

A tall, bony man in a black robe, a cracked skull mask over his face. One eye visible through a socket: tired. Bored.

“You’re early,” the ferryman muttered.

Miles opened his mouth.

Said nothing.

Around him, dozens of others huddled on the deck of the black ship, just like him—confused, drenched, and wide-eyed. Children.Teenagers. Adults. Some crying. Some silent.

The ship groaned softly as it floated across the sea.

The light in the distance—so far behind them now—faded into nothing.

And the ocean turned to darkness.

The boat moved silently across the dark sea.

Its hull cut through the water like a blade through silk, rippling the black surface with every gentle push. No one spoke. Not even the ferryman, who only occasionally shifted the rudder with a bored grunt.

Miles sat at the edge of the boat, shivering, his soaked hoodie sticking to his skin.

He stared into the ocean.

And the ocean stared back.

Beneath the water, just beneath the surface, things moved—faces, moments, flickers of time. A dog wagging its tail. A woman laughing at a birthday cake. A child clinging to their father's hand. A nurse holding someone's palm in a hospital bed.

People.

Places.

Memories.

The sea wasn't just dark. It was alive. Absorbing. Cleansing.

Every soul who passed through it left something behind, like a coin dropped into a wishing well.

And Miles realized, with a shuddering chill, that it was taking something from him, too. Not just his warmth. His past. His life.

He clenched his fists. Pressed his knees to his chest. Stared away from the waves.

That’s when he saw it.

Rising up from the horizon like a dream built from ink and bone—

A city.

It emerged slowly, carved from the black marble of some forgotten age. Tall spires and domes stretched toward the sky, adorned with gargoyles and stained glass windows. The architecture was a blend of Roman columns and Gothic arches, winding and majestic, like someone had built a cathedral on top of a mausoleum and then let it grow for centuries.

Blood-red trees lined the outskirts, their leaves fluttering in the wind like velvet ribbons. The branches reached toward the city walls, curling like fingers.

The sky above it was neither day nor night. Just dusk. Forever dusk. Warm and quiet.

It looked like autumn frozen in time.

As the boat drew closer, Miles could see people along the waterfront—if you could call them that. They wore long robes in muted greys and blacks, each face hidden behind smooth porcelain masks. Some masks smiled. Some wept. Some were blank as if waiting to feel something.

But not everyone wore masks.

Children stood barefoot near the docks, watching curiously.

They were… different.

Not quite human. Their skin ranged from pale ash to dusky grey, some so deep it was almost charcoal. Their hair was shades of black, purple, and deep red. Their eyes glowed faintly—ruby, amethyst, emerald.

Dark Elves, Miles thought suddenly. He didn’t know how he knew the word. Maybe from a game. Maybe from something deeper.

They were beautiful and strange, like drawings of elves scribbled into a Halloween book.

A few of them looked at Miles with wide eyes, whispering behind their hands. One little girl raised a hand as if to wave—

But a tall woman in a silver mask stepped out from a nearby archway and silently motioned them away. They scattered like leaves in the wind.

The boat glided to a stop.

No splash. No bump.

Just stillness.

The ferryman tapped the dock with the oar. “Off,” he said flatly.

One by one, the passengers rose. Stumbling. Nervous. Silent.

Miles stood last.

The moment his feet touched the stone dock, he looked back—but the boat was already drifting away again, swallowed by the sea’s black skin.

And the light from earlier? That warm, golden glow?

Gone.

Miles was alone.

But not for long.